


On the Door

by vega_voices



Category: In Plain Sight
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-06
Updated: 2010-08-06
Packaged: 2017-10-19 18:18:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,657
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/203860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vega_voices/pseuds/vega_voices
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Her mind screamed at her, demanding answers, but her mouth refused to cooperate.  This wasn’t a conversation for right now.  It was for the car, when they couldn’t escape each other. He stared at her and clearly read the terror on her face because in his eyes she saw his acceptance that somehow, she now knew.</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	On the Door

_**Fic: In Plain SIght: On the Door**_  
 **Title:** On the Door  
 **Author:** [](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/profile)[**vegawriters**](http://vegawriters.livejournal.com/)  
 **Fandom:** In Plain Sight  
 **Pairings:** Mary and Marshall friendship; Marshall/OMC (Joe)  
 **Rating:** PG-13  
 **A/N:** In honor of the Prop 8 reversal, I am writing a series of slash and femslash fics. This is the first installment. For [](http://rainbowwizard1.livejournal.com/profile)[**rainbowwizard1**](http://rainbowwizard1.livejournal.com/). She helped me find the Gay subtext. :) This is a stand alone short but I see there being more stories in this universe. If people ask nicely.

 **Summary:** _Her mind screamed at her, demanding answers, but her mouth refused to cooperate. This wasn’t a conversation for right now. It was for the car, when they couldn’t escape each other. He stared at her and clearly read the terror on her face because in his eyes she saw his acceptance that somehow, she now knew.  
_

Seven-thirty in the morning and it was already ninety degrees. Not for the first time, Mary Shannon wondered whatever possessed people to choose to live in the desert. Her own love of the arched red rocks and endless blue skies aside, the heat was unbearable and there were times she actually missed the hellish summers of New Jersey. With a groan, she turned off her car and stared at the front door of her partner’s house. In the seconds without air conditioning, she felt the temperature in the small space climb to uncomfortable levels. God it was hot.

It was rare they had to be at the office this early (shifts being what they were, she and Marshall often clocked in around nine), but departmental meetings demanded their presence. Given that she’d been at the office until midnight, she wanted to stop for another cup of coffee before facing Allison and Theresa and the rest of the witsec staff. What was it this time? Budget reminders? New codes of conduct? Maybe Connor would finally get canned for the homophobic and sexist remarks that streamed nonstop from his bulging mouth.

After two minutes, when Marshall hadn’t stepped out the door and locked it in his careful way, Mary groaned and gave in. The short walk in the oppressive heat had her wishing for a transfer to Alaska as she headed up the driveway to the front door of Marshall’s surprisingly spacious cottage. Her internal ranting about the heat paused briefly as she processed the presence of a strange car in Marshall’s driveway. It was a hybrid SUV, like Marshall’s, but royal blue rather than silver. The Utah plates surprised her more than the car itself but some small part of her brain reminded her that his youngest brother lived there. If she remembered correctly, Christian was assigned to the FBI field office in St. George, working on the task force that was taking down the polygamist enclaves in that area.

She knocked and waited. And waited. After a second knock and still no movement, she pulled out her key and stepped inside. It was possible he was in the backyard, watering the troves of plants that kept him (and her) in vegetables and herbs for the whole summer. With the heat, he was watering the vines at least twice a day.

The three bedroom cottage was on the list of historical buildings; Marshall’s few alterations to the home had all required approval and had to maintain the original look of the house. So the floors were classic hardwood, not the cheap snap-into-place boards in most houses these days. The stucco walls had been repainted a soft rose, but still acted as a perfect insulator - cool in the summer and warm in the winter (which was good since he couldn’t install air conditioning and the house was heated by way of a central fireplace.) The windows were all open, quiet fans moving air through the arched ceilings and open floor plan. In the back, she could hear the sound of running water through the ancient pipes. It amazed her sometimes that this place even had electricity - or running water.

But it was classic, classic Marshall. It fit him. Simple. Cozy. Complete in its lack of completion.

Long steps took her through the comfortable living room with its leather couches and the rough-hewn cottonwood coffee table. There were two books on the table – the history of Hiroshima that Marshall had been embroiled in for weeks and one she didn’t recognize about the history of the Mormon migration to Utah. Under each window, low bookshelves that matched the coffee table were crammed (in perfect alphabetical by author order) with the different subjects Marshall was usually immersed in. She paused to finger a new stack that wasn’t yet put away and then made her way into the red dust tile of the small but very functional kitchen.

There were times she was still shocked that her partner didn’t have a microwave. But he did have a coffee maker and the carafe was full of fresh coffee so she poured a cup while waiting for the shower to stop running. Her eyes scanned the room – it was spotless save for the morning paper still on the table and the set of dishes in the ceramic sink. Two sets. Yes, Marshall definitely had company. So where was this younger brother of his?

The kitchen was decorated with drying herbs from Marshall’s garden and a set of photographs she’d taken one day when they were out in the desert while she was still recovering from the gunshot wound. She’d needed to get out of town and he’d wanted to reconnect with her, so they drove out to the middle of nowhere and hiked. The black and white shots focused on the occasional lizard shading under a cactus or the way a rock cast a shadow on the ground. He’d loved them and for his birthday last year, she’d had a set of his four favorites matted and framed. Her little secret was not her love of photography but just how good she was at it. It was a hobby, a dalliance, an escape. Now that her house was empty, what she really wanted to do was turn her third bedroom into a dark room.

Her eye fell on the faux antique fridge – perfectly modern and energy saving but made to look like it came from fifty years ago. Takeout menus from the Thai place he loved and the Burmese place she had yet to try clipped under a magnet. A picture of the two of them at a formal US Marshal’s function. He looked so good in a tux. A shot of his mother. And one of him and some man she didn’t know. He was their age – tall and well built. Olive skin, dark hair, and slightly longer than regulation black hair. His arm was around Marshall’s waist. Marshall had his head on the other man’s shoulder. Behind them, in a city she vaguely recognized as Salt Lake, a rainbow flag fluttered in the breeze.

Her heart stopped beating.

Why the hell had she never noticed the picture before? It wasn’t like she wasn’t at Marshall’s on a regular basis. _But how often was she in the kitchen?_ How often had he rolled his eyes at her snide remarks about him dating some guy? Or questioning his masculinity? Why hadn’t he told her? Why … it wasn’t like she had any issue with it. Live and let live.

So why hadn’t he said anything?

Who the hell was this guy?

“Hey, Mare.” Marshall’s voice startled her. She jumped and turned. He was in his “business casual” work pants and a white undershirt. His feet were bare, his hair still damp from his shower. “Sorry I’m running late this morning. I’ll be ready in a sec.” Behind them, she heard a door close.

Her mind screamed at her, demanding answers, but her mouth refused to cooperate. This wasn’t a conversation for right now. It was for the car, when they couldn’t escape each other. He stared at her and clearly read the terror on her face because in his eyes she saw his acceptance that somehow, she now knew.

Marshall. Her Marshall. Her sweet, passionate, tender, geeky Marshall was gay.

“It’s okay. I hate these things anyway, you know.”

Unspoken words hung between them.

Shaking, Mary pulled the photograph off the fridge and handed it to him.

“We’ll talk later?”

He nodded, looking somehow nervous and defeated and yet relieved all at the same time.

“I’ll be right out.”

Marshall took his coffee and disappeared back into the bedroom.

***

  
“His name is Joe Haskins. We met at Pride a couple of years ago.” Unable to keep the nerves from his voice, Marshall stared out the window at the city Mary was speeding past. He knew she wouldn’t care, but he hadn’t wanted her to find out like this.

“Pride?” Mary was staring at her fingernails more than the road. “Since when do you go to Pride?”

“Since the Matthew Shepherd case. I came out to myself in college, dated other partially closeted students, but I never did anything as a part of a community until then. After Matthew, my mindset changed. Slightly.” He didn’t tell her that his own brother actually had a tendency to quote the Reverend Phelps or that his mother had shook her head and said “that boy would probably have died from AIDS anyway.” Someday, Marshall would tell Mary about Everett and the grave that would never have a headstone because his family refused to allow it.

“That’s the vacation you take every June?”

Slowly, he nodded. “I go up to Salt Lake. Utah’s Pride is interesting to me – it’s in the middle of this really conservative area and there are thirty-thousand of us all mingling around and the last few years, there’s only been one or two protestors and they’re guys who also say the Mormons are going to hell.” Mary laughed at that and Marshall let some of the tension in his body slip away. “Anyway, I like the drive. I always stop off in Moab and go hiking and there’s a state park near Boulder that is an old Ancient Pueblo village that has some interesting information.”

His heart ached. He’d kept this secret from her through everything they’d been through. But living a life in the closet meant that everyone was somehow kept at arm’s length. He knew Mary wouldn’t care, but it was so easy to just stay tucked away from everyone. She’d kept him from dying and he had kept this from her. It wasn’t fair. But before he could apologize, she did.

“I’m sorry for all the gay jokes, Marshall.”

He paused and it felt like the air in the car stopped circulating. Suddenly he laughed. “God, Mary. You don’t have to apologize. If they’d really bothered me, I’d have called you on it. Anyway, I’m not gay.”

“Wait, you’re dating a guy.”

For a second, he allowed himself to enjoy her confusion. “I’m bisexual. So is Joe. Well, he prefers the term pansexual, but I’m just a little more black and white than he is.”

“Later, you’ll have to define whatever the hell pansexual means. But what, you can’t make up your mind about wanting cock or pussy?”

“No, it means I like both.” Marshall chuckled but let the conversation turn serious again. “Not wanting to explain bisexuality is one of many reasons I don’t say a word at work. Law enforcement is not exactly a welcoming place.”

“Especially the Marshal’s service.”

“We’re still too badass for our own good, thinking we’re all tough, macho cowboys.”

She laughed. “Gay or not, we are all tough, macho cowboys. One doesn’t exclude the other.”

Wanting to laugh and agree with her, he only shrugged, still caught up in his own need to confess his sin of omission. “Mary, I’m sorry I never told you. It’s not that I thought you’d have a problem with it, but I’m so used to not telling anyone … that I just let it be.”

“Who knows?”

“You, now. Joe, obviously. My mother asked me flat out a couple of years ago so I told her, but she has a lot of problems with it so we don’t talk about it. A few friends, mostly in the community, and there’s actually network of support within the law enforcement world. We keep each other’s secrets.”

Mary absorbed his words as they drove toward the Sunshine Building. He didn’t push her. He knew she wanted to stop the car and get out and run so she could process everything he was saying. She didn’t have a problem with it, but it was this new aspect of him for her to understand and she didn’t do well with change. Suddenly … it was all different. Wasn’t it?

“Mary, say something.”

“I don’t know what to say, Marshall.” She chewed her lip. “Can I meet him?”

“Of course.”

“What does he do?”

“He’s a lawyer for an Equality Rights group in Salt Lake City. There’s a job opening for a position with a similar group in Albuquerque so he’s down here interviewing. We’re both tired of living apart from each other.”

Again silence. She pulled into her usual spot and stopped the car. They were fifteen minutes late and Marshall could sense Stan’s eyes staring down at them from the rooftop office but he could wait another couple of minutes.

“I need time to process this, Marshall. Mostly because … we’ve been friends for seven years and you haven’t shared this with me. But I’m … I’m glad I finally found out.”

“I am too.”

She stared at him and he lost himself in her eyes. There was a part of him that loved her, deeply, and right now, he knew, a part of her heart was breaking. He was supposed to be hers and hers alone, but he had this life and this boyfriend that mattered to him and he’d never shared any of it. Swallowing, hard, she climbed out of the car. He followed, wondering how she would react. He expected her to run, but instead her step slowed into time with his and as they entered the building, he saw her shield of protectiveness grow even stronger. He was her partner and her best friend; her family. And she’d be damned if anyone ever hurt him because of the man he loved.

“The night I got shot, he was your date, wasn’t he?” Slowly, Marshall nodded. “Sorry about that.”

Marshall just chuckled. “He forgave me for running off.”

“Good.”

“Come over for dinner tonight, Mare. We’ll have a drink and you can get to know him.”

It was her turn to slowly nod. Marshall let out a slow breath and refocused his thoughts on the job before them.

***

  
“When is she getting here again?” Joe was nervous and Marshall had given up trying to calm him down about fifteen minutes earlier. He paced the comfortable backyard, his feet soaking up the heat from the concrete of the deck and his hand grasping the sweating beer bottle a little too tightly. Marshall just watched from the back door, his hands shoved in the pockets of his lightweight pants. It was too hot for jeans.

Finally, Marshall stepped onto the deck, a beer of his own in his hand. His long legs took two steps to get to his favorite of the chairs and he collapsed into it and took a long swallow of his drink before answering. “Around eight.” Marshall paused and shook his head, “Mary had handled the whole situation better than I expected. Maybe it was because she already suspected or maybe because she really didn’t care or maybe because she was still processing all the information. Whatever the answer, at least she didn’t fly off the handle and storm away. I kind of expected that.”

He stretched out his legs and propped them on the low table. Above them, trellises formed an arbor for tomato vines to mingle with spinach, oregano, and even petunias. Against the wall of the house, basil and rosemary bushes exploded with flavor and scent. The summer heat had killed any chance of the squash plants doing more than flowering, but the yellow flowers were cheery and beautiful. Banana peppers flowered with promise and he’d even had some small success with the eggplant. Gardening kept Marshall sane, Joe knew, especially on days like today. So he stopped pacing and kept an eye on his boyfriend. Today had been hard on Marshall.

Joe had spent the morning in a very productive interview and expected to get the offer for the senior attorney position with New Mexico Equality. Lunch had been a fascinating discussion on the merits of the reversal of California’s Prop 8 with a friend who worked for the ACLU chapter in Albuquerque. He’d spent the afternoon ensconced in the law library, reacquainting himself with Supreme Court case law. Marshall had spent his day in a series of meetings and trainings and while he hadn’t said anything specific about the happenings of the day, Joe knew that there were a couple of his fellow Marshal’s who were less than civil whenever anything came up in the media about equality. These were the same types of guys who didn’t think women had any place in the service.

He wished Marshall could tell him more about his job. Joe heard story after story of the dangers and rewards of kicking down doors and raiding crack houses. He proudly showed off battle scars given to him by perp and fugitive and even one courtesy of the heel of Mary’s stiletto coming down on his foot at the wrong moment. But there was something he always held back, and Joe knew it had more to do with his job than it did his closeted existence. Joe understood. As a lawyer, there were many things Joe could never divulge lest he go to prison, but he wished Marshall could talk more. He was always happy to discuss String Theory or the history of the importance of the potato, but there was a part of his heart that was closed and it saddened both of them. After a moment of his own contemplations, he realized Marshall’s shoulders were shaking with unshed tears.

“What is it, babe?” He crossed quickly to where Marshall sat and took him tenderly in his arms. “Talk to me.”

But Marshall just shook his head and wiped his eyes. “I’m sorry. Today was just long and overwhelming and I never intended to come out to Mary this way.”

“What happened at work?”

Marshall only shrugged. “I get that most law enforcement types are a little more conservative. Hell, I’m a little more conservative. But we’re supposed to protect the people and hearing some of the crap I heard today … it just gave me a headache.”

“Is this your weekly, ‘I need to just come out of the closet’ rant?”

This time Marshall laughed and Joe relaxed slightly. “I think so.”

“Look, I understand why you aren’t out. I get all your reasoning. But your life would be so much better if you were. Even with the assholes of the world out there to judge you.” He did understand that Marshall didn’t want to ruin a promising career by coming out. He knew that Marshall’s family would disown him – and it wasn’t just a threat and Marshall’s father’s connections could ruin every future Marshall had in the service. Despite Federal Protections, it was almost impossible to be a gay man and do the kind of job Marshall did.

“You know I’m not ashamed.”

He did know. Marshall was very proud of who he was. He just couldn’t live his life out loud. “Which is one of the reasons why we’re still together despite no one knowing your true self.”

For a long moment they stared at each other and Joe knew there was so much more to Marshall’s life than he could ever tell. Marshall was a Marshal and that demanded secrecy. Joe knew that and he accepted it. Just like he accepted why Marshall couldn’t come out of the closet. Not yet anyway. So instead of pressing for more information that he knew Marshall could give, he took Marshall’s hand in his own and kissed each of his long fingers and changed the subject.

“How did Mary react this morning?”

“After she got over her initial hurt that we’ve been friends for seven years and I didn’t tell her?”

“Yeah.”

“She put on her Momma-Bear cloak.” He grinned and Joe had to laugh. He loved it when Marshall grinned. “If there’s anything Mary Shannon does well, it’s defend the people she loves. You should have heard her go off on Connors today after some snide comment he made.” Marshall smiled and Joe wondered what else was in that story that his partner couldn’t divulge.

Movement in the house alerted both of them and a tall blonde Joe recognized from pictures as Mary stepped through the door, a six pack in one hand. “Hey boys.” She stared for a long time at Joe before coming forward, tilting her head. He tilted his in return. She placed the beer on the table and crossed her arms, sizing him up. Joe, for his part, just raised an eyebrow. “Just what are your intentions with my partner? And is he a top or a bottom?”

Exactly ten seconds passed before all three of them broke out laughing. Joe sighed with relief before taking the hand Mary held out to him. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mary. Marshall loves you a lot.”

She blushed and shrugged and he saw the hurt pass briefly through her eyes. “I’m at a disadvantage, Joe. So you’d better start talking.” Mary reached for a beer while Joe took a seat on the opposite side of the table.

“What do you want to know?”

Mary grinned and smirked at both of them. “Everything.”


End file.
